


Fallen Haven

by TheWriter456



Category: Youtubers, youtube - Fandom
Genre: AU, Dystopia, Gay, M/M, Septiplier AWAY!, gayship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWriter456/pseuds/TheWriter456
Summary: WARNING- STORY WILL CONTAIN:*Gore, sexual activity, strong language, sensitive topics, sexuality etc*--A dystopian world, poor and rich are completely divided. Racism isn't even existent anymore. Slums occupy the concrete block towns, while the well-off  Citers control the cities, miles away from the Slums.





	1. Chapter One

Slums. That's the first word I learned to recognize. Not mom or dad, but Slums. That's what people like us were called. The ones who were unfortunate enough to basically be a separate species from the Citers who rule the cities across the river. I've always been curious, never afraid of the few Citers who check up on us once a month. They steal, steal from people who barely have anything. I was arrested for a few weeks when I'd attacked one for taking my father's crutch. I snapped, lunging forward during our check and punched him in the jaw. I remember the cell I was in, it was dark. I was blinded each time they opened the door. They tossed me maybe some stale bread every other day. I was eight years old and already marked as a rebel.

I received a tattoo on my back that said Rebellious in blood-red ink. The tattoo was two hours long, I'd passed out from the pain. I was then shoved back into my community, I fell to the dusty earth of the town and a neighbor of mine picked me up. I was taken to my father, where he traded and traded most of what we had so I could be bandaged somewhat properly. It was all so vivid, even though I was barely conscious.

As I got older, the more I was watched by the Citers. They started weekly checks once I was Thirteen years old. At the lineup, I made sure I was close to my father. I didn't want him being treated so badly ever again, even if it killed me. My people always made sure to keep their distance from my father and I. I was barely spoken to, not even glanced at. It was a wary subject in town if an adult becomes rebellious....the consequence will be the tattooing and sometimes death. When I was young I didn't realize how much danger I was at the time. It'd been over a hundred years since a rebel had been discovered.

My father tried his best to stop people from neglecting us. We weren't even allowed to buy food and water rations. I had to walk miles away from town and get small rodents or dry plants for my father and me to eat. I collected rain water with a ceramic pot that was hidden from the townspeople. Honestly, we were more well-fed and the least dehydrated Slums in the town. We kept to ourselves, made sure to not to look suspicious.

The checks from Citers were conducted every week. They would go through our homes, searching for any sign of rebellious behavior. Our home was a cracked concrete box with a doorway that was covered by a ragged brown cloth. I spent a few days chipping through the thick rock wall and made it bigger and bigger until the ceramic pot and food stash could fit inside. I put the chunk of concrete back over it, which made us have an advantage of our supplies not stolen from the greedy Citers.

Incidents in town would always stir trouble that would somehow always include me. Someone had figured out about my scavenging trips, it was spread immediately. People requested me to start getting food for them as well. I refused, knowing that the Citers would target me again. I was called out at a check lineup and was immediately searched. My secret hiding spot was found and they destroyed everything I'd gathered. Then beat me until I was coughing up blood. I was only fourteen.

Now, at age eighteen....I've learned to trust no one except my father. Not even children, anyone wouldn't think twice before blaming something on me. I was expendable. Even though I started hunting bigger animals farther from town, mostly wild dogs, and scrawny deer. I sold the meat and gained a few favors from other townspeople. But that deadly word on my skin always found a way to break off any ally I had. I have lost count on how many times people had come up with lies so that I was taken away and tortured. Scars ran up and down my arms and legs, cigarette burns to stab wounds. I looked like a monster.

My father would always say reassuring things to me after each punishment. He'd mention that I was a fighter, a rare breed that hasn't existed for a very long time. I always shooed him away. I didn't need him to suffer like I did, so I left. I lived on the outskirts of town, alone and hungry most of the time. It was a rare sight to see any Citers this far out....But one day...they found me.


	2. Chapter Two

"Him again? I thought he'd committed suicide."  
"Nope. He was sitting pretty out of town, I saw a billow of smoke going up so I checked it out."  
There was a bag over my head. I could barely breathe, I knew I was on the bridge. I was sitting on asphalt, I could tell because of all the times they've put me here. I traced my fingers across the sandpaper-like surface. My hands were tied behind my back, so there was no chance of escaping. The bag was suddenly ripped off, I blinked as the bright light burned my eyes. Two well-dressed men were in front of me, smirking. One had a cigarette in his mouth, while the other was lighting one. They were both at least twenty years old, new recruits I didn't really recognize. Suddenly someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. I narrowed my gaze as I saw the older face of Grey.

"Heya Jack."  
I blinked as the younger men enjoyed the show.  
"No answer? Damn. That's pretty rude of you."  
He tightened his grip on my hair as the other two goons laughed quietly.  
"Hello, Grey," I said, serious.  
He smiled and released me. I sighed as my scalp throbbed a little. Grey came around to the front of me and bit his lip.  
"It's been a while....Like a month or so?" Grey half asked like his two new partners were supposed to answer.  
"It's actually been two months Grey." One of them said.

"Damn! Sorry for being away from you for so long Jack-a-boy."  
He then kicked me hard in the gut. I didn't fall or crumple to the ground. I inhaled and stared at him with anger.  
"Wow. You're really tough for a slum." A man said, looking actually surprised.  
"Yeah. This is the legendary Rebel remember? He has to be tough or he would've died when he was eight."  
They did have rules to follow. They couldn't kill me until I'm twenty, but torturing was allowed. I just had to be alive after each one. And trust me, Grey hated this rule. I remember almost every time he was my punisher I thought I was done for. But he somehow always made me survive.

"So. Why did you run away from your father? Were you afraid to keep making him in pain all the time? Hell, If I was you. I would've run a long time ago."  
He was just trying to make me snap. He always did this and never succeeded. I think it pissed him off more, that I was so unemotional when he tortured me. I rarely cried during them, unless the pain was too great to handle. I broke only once so far, that was when I was extremely unhealthy with barely any body weight. Grey shifted and looked away from me for a moment then looked to the man closest to him.  
"Brett. You get to start once we get to the building."  
He gave a nod and Grey grabbed the bag on the ground and put it over my face. Here we go, back to the slaughterhouse.

Cars were a weird thing. I have never seen the inside of one, either because my eyes were swollen shut from being beaten or I had something covering my vision. The cars that they use are sleek, a light silver, very short and small. But inside they are roomy I guess. I might just be not moving enough to realize I'm in some sort of crate or something. The car stopped and I was forced out, with a very hard grip on my right shoulder. I stumbled but didn't fall. I can't seem weak to them, that's all I have left. The slaughterhouse was very cold, with very artificial smelling air inside. It was a melted plastic smell, but almost every building in the city was like this. We walked for a few minutes until we came to the torture room. A white, lit up room that had a pane of glass on one wall so other Citers could watch the show. It smelled of blood and decay. My throat would burn for the first few minutes I was there. The white walls were stained a brown-red color, which added emphasis to the morbid look of it.

The bag was removed and I inhaled the rank air. The room was clean, except for the blood stains. I swallowed. Every blood splatter was mine. My blood covered every wall, every inch of this room. In the last ten years of my life, I have left a terribly disturbing mark on these walls. I was shoved to the ground, as they stripped my shirt from me. They had to check and make sure the tattoo was completely there, dark and easily noticed. The man Grey had called Brett stepped forward with a knife in his hand. I swallowed as he grabbed my hair and cut it all off. I was shocked by the unusual thing. That knife would have usually gone through my back or shoulder. But he cut my hair off instead. I stared at my dark hair that covered the floor next to me for a moment.  
"Damn. With that long hair, he looked kinda like a chick. Now, time for the real fun."  
Oh great.

Brett took his knife and cut semi-deep on my shoulder. I clenched my teeth as I felt my hot blood rolling down my shoulder and side. The pain was almost tolerable, that wasn't necessarily one of the bad ones I've had to deal with at all. Brett made a few more engraving cuts on my side and arms. They'd tied me down so I wouldn't writhe around so much. People watched my torture, smiling and looking very pleased as my slum blood dripped and pooled onto the lit floor. I let out a breath as they gave me a few minutes to breathe. I looked up at the glass and saw a teen Citer. He looked horrified, not at all happy with this. What the hell-

A hard blow to the back of my head made me gasp. Pain exploded in my skull and my vision darkened, with white splotches flashing here and there. I'd bitten my tongue so blood was forcing its way between my lips. I saw it drip onto the floor, mixing with the other blood.  
"Jesus Christ! Are you serious!? We can't beat him too badly, then we can't do it for so long!"  
I looked behind me slightly and saw Grey punch Brett. I swallowed my blood-saliva and shivered by the iron taste. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.  
"Jake, make sure he's still with it."  
The other man squatted down and lifted my face by my chin. His green gaze searched me for a moment. He was breathing with his mouth open, which disgusted me. Since he smelled of cigarettes and old alcohol. He looked a little disappointed when I glared at him.  
"He's fine. A concussion isn't that bad."  
He stood and walked over to where Grey was beating Brett. I sighed and looked up, the teen was still there. His eyes were wide, what was his deal? Gore issues or something? This isn't anything compared to others. This is like a knee scrape.

I narrowed my gaze at him and he looked surprised and I nearly choked on my own blood as I saw sympathy in his blue gaze. What a joke. A Citer with feelings, his empathy isn't anything, he could be directing it to Jake or someone behind me. I saw Grey's knuckles as he walked away from Brett. They were smeared with his blood. I swallowed. He didn't kill him but still, Grey was scarier than death himself. I saw Jake helping Brett as Grey picked up his blade and smiled at me.  
"Well Jack, how's our pain level today?"  
He asked it so sarcastically it made me want to vomit how cheesy it sounded.  
"I'm trying to have a conversation with you man. Give an ounce of respect at least."  
He came level with my eyes and I stared at him.

"It's nothing. Like every damn time, you torture me you cowardly bastard. You can't do anythi-"  
Pain struck me. He dug that damned blade into my side. I inhaled as I felt my blood start welling quicker than the rest of my wounds. I choked as pain clutched me, my lower jaw burned with the urge to cry. No. Don't cry, you're not a kid anymore. Stand up to him. He can't kill you.  
"Is that it? That little r-recruit Brett did one better."  
Grey stood up and shifted.  
"You've always been a cocky son of a bitch. But today it's more now. You think I can't do anything? You really believe I'm afraid to die? Hell. I'd give anything for that, but...watching you suffer is amazing. A rush of something that makes me want to live. Let me give you a little thank you gift."  
He stabbed me in the lower back, barely missing my spine. I grunted as he twisted the blade.

"Every Slum breaks. Even one like you, Rebel."


	3. Chapter Three

When it was over, my body felt numb. I was shaking uncontrollably, it was the only response I'd show to all the pain. I hadn't cried during a punishment since I was younger. Of course, they were less harsh but still made me useless for weeks on end. I remember my father always wrapping me up in one of the ragged blankets from town. They were always stained with blood after each time, which meant it had to be thrown away to prevent decay. I swallowed, as the metallic taste of blood became more noticeable. I looked up, the sky and buildings were dark with lights shining in them. They'd beaten me all day, then left me to be a display in the city for any night passerbys.

I kept thinking about that boy I'd seen. I have never in a million years thought I would see a Citer look sorry for me. They all just laughed and took pictures. I still sorta believed he was really looking at Jake or something for having to deal with me. I shifted and let out a painful, ragged breath. It was gurgling through the blood still going down my throat. I sounded terrible. The pain in my head never ceased, it pounded in the back of my skull. The wound in my back hurt the worst. I wasn't paralyzed at least, but I'm not sure that's an up-one or not. If I was paralyzed I couldn't feel pain as much. He missed on purpose. He wouldn't let me get away with having less discomfort.

The lights under the floor were flickering a little. If I wasn't bleeding out, I'd be annoyed by it. I heard a tap on the glass so I glanced up a little. It was much easier to see without my long hair blocking my vision. Someone in a hoodie. I could barely see their face. They looked very curious, I swallowed as they took off their hood. It was that boy....Why was he here? He looked too young to be out and about this time of night. What...am I doing. This is a Citer, none of them deserve my worry. He said something, but I couldn't hear him. I raised a brow and groaned as a wave of pain coursed through me. It was so bad that I felt like I was going to vomit but I couldn't. There was nothing in my stomach.

My eyes shut as it passed, I opened one eye to see that the boy was gone. Was he trying to speak to me? Why would he even try? It's not like he could stop anything from happening to me anyway. I moved my arms, that were completely numb from being tied up all day. I was leaning against the wall, able to be seen very clearly by the sick freaks outside. Drying blood was all over my body. Some fresh blood was still slowly dripping from my wounds, creating more crimson pools near me. I honestly don't know how I'm alive at this point. I've lost so much blood, they'd given me blood many times before, especially if I was on the edge of death.

Grey would come in and check on me every hour to make sure I wasn't dead or dying too much for his liking. It's been awhile since he'd come to check in, which meant he was going to walk in sooner rather than later. I just sit and wait, wait for that piece shit to come and tell me something that's an attempt to break me. Since he'd only accomplished it once, it's his life goal to see me fall apart and look miserable. But I would never give him the pleasure of it again.

Speak of the devil, Grey and Jake walked in.  
"How are you, Jack? Been choking on too much blood?" Grey asked, smiling.  
That was the crappiest thing I'd ever heard him say.  
"I'm doing j-just fine thank you."  
Grey frowned as I smiled at him. It was a pleasure to me when he was pissed at my remarks.  
"He seems to be doing fine Grey-"  
"Go grab a blood bag, get him hooked up. He's good at pretending."

Jake looked startled, but gave a nod and left the room. Grey pulled a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket and lit it. A puff of smoke billowed into the air and then he stuck it in between his lips. He put the lighter away and looked at me. There seemed to be no emotion in his gaze. I didn't glance away, though, I was afraid. But I wouldn't dare show how fearful I was at that moment.

Jake came back in with a bag of crimson liquid, with the tubing wrapped neatly on top. Grey watched as Jake got out rubbing alcohol and dumped it on a cloth. He came to my side and wiped some dried blood from my left arm. The cold cloth almost distracted me from his gaze. I tensed as I felt the needle go into my skin. The bag was hung on a hook that was on the ceiling, made for me getting blood. Jake stepped away and stood by Grey, he looked nervous around Grey. Probably because Brett had been beaten right in front of him. Jake hadn't even done anything to me. He must've just been hired.

They left soon after, not even a word was spoken to me. Which surprised me. Since there were only two years left of my life, maybe they wouldn't talk as much. More physical pain than emotional. I sat alone, still shaking from the trauma. Today wasn't the worst torture I've ever had, but it was one of the worse ones. The worst was a few years back. I had almost died, but they'd somehow brought me back. An old punisher of mine had just decided to kill me. He cut from my wrist to the upper part of my arms. Luckily, Grey had been on duty there and found out. He'd saved my life, but not for my sake, but for his. The punisher...he was murdered right there by Grey, a stab wound to the gut. I remember passing out from the blood loss as the man fell to the ground.

Hours passed. And so did checks from Grey. He'd walk in and check the blood bag and then leave. No speaking. It was the most silence I'd heard from him ever. It was weird, I almost felt worried for the piece of shit. That sounds ridiculous but I'm completely out of it. Soon I started seeing the sky lightening above the gleaming buildings outside. I sighed as more and more people started walking around and driving by. Some stopped to take a picture or just smile. I hate their smiles. The way my pain brings them joy sickens me. If I ever somehow escaped while I was in the city, I'd kill as many as I could.

"Rise and shine sleeping beauty!" Grey called, opening the door.  
I glanced at him as Brett and Jake trailed behind Grey. Brett looked like shit. His face was swollen and darkly bruised. But he didn't look upset with Grey, in particular, he looked mad at me. Grey looked at the now empty blood bag and laughed quietly to himself.  
"It's a damn shame we waste this blood on you. Lots of people need it out there."  
I almost retorted back but I stopped myself. I don't need any more wounds.  
"I'm s-sorry Grey......I'll follow the rules so your p-people survive."  
It made me sick and angry to say it, but I have to, or it'll be worse for me and others. Grey actually looked kinda surprised by my response, which made me happy to see him a little disoriented and unsure of what to say.

They cleaned all the dried blood off me but didn't dress my wounds at all. It was extremely painful but I got through it. They were done in about a half an hour. Soon after, they left me alone. Blood still welled around some wounds that I kept opening every time I breathed. I got to my feet, my legs shaking as I leaned against the wall. My breath echoed as the throbbing quickened and then slowed. The pain eased very slightly, so I took a deep breath. I was shaking more now, I could barely stand on my legs. My hands were still tied so my least damaged shoulder was leaning against the wall. I could feel the needle still in my arm, digging deeper.

I looked out and saw people starting to surround the glass. I swallowed as I tried and tried to stay standing. Don't fall. Stay standing, you're not weak. None of them could ever handle this, just remember that. I could feel the blood from my back wound rolling down onto my lower back. My head throbbed from my thoughts. I'm going to be fine. I looked up again and saw a woman with her child. The little girl's eyes were bright and she was smiling. She was smiling. A five or six-year-old little kid is smiling at my torture. I glared at the woman and she looked dumbfounded. I inhaled as I tried wriggling my hands to get the rope off. I was weak but somehow managed one hand free.

I had to be subtle, or they'd report it. I took my free hand and pulled the rope off but held it behind my back like I was still tied. I don't know what my goal is here. I can't fight Grey or Brett for that matter. I'm weak and still losing blood. I did this for no reason. I realized my mistake and froze as the door swung open. Grey walked in, smiling.

"Congratulations Jack-a-boy! For the first time, you actually got those ropes off. Your rebellious behavior hasn't ceased like you'd said."  
I froze as he came near me. When I was standing, we were almost the same height. He narrowed his gaze and suddenly grabbed my arm and yanked the needle out. I gritted my teeth and gasped.  
The pain in my arm wasn't as bad as my back, but it just added more to tolerate. I inhaled as Grey ran the bloody needle in his hand.  
"I bet that felt great."

He tossed it at Jake, who fumbled with it for a moment then held it. He looked even more nervous than he had before.  
"Jake. Our little friend here untied himself...What should you do?"  
Jake swallowed.  
"Uh...Continue the torture until he gets it."  
Grey laughed a little and wiped his bloody hand on his jeans.  
"He was almost dead last night. Wanna try again?"  
Jake looked terrified.  
"He must be taken to the containment unit on the East side of the city."

I froze at his words. No. I can't get medical care then. I almost said something but kept my mouth shut. That would be suicide if I argued with them, I don't even know what the punishment would be...but I'd probably wish I was dead after it.

"Good job Jake. Now...Go get General Thomson for me. He needs to meet Jack here."  
Jake nodded and glanced at me, then disappeared through the door. Grey ran a hand through his hair and smiled at me.  
"You're something else ya know. You fight all the time, no matter how hurt you are. You don't even seem to care about all this. I almost paralyzed you and you're not even phased by it."  
Grey raised a brow and held out his hand. I realized he must've wanted the rope so I held it up weakly and he snatched it from me. Grey smiled and put the blood-stained rope into his pocket. Soon the door swung open and I saw a man in a very formal suit walk in. He had a very older look to him, even though he was probably only in his late twenties or early thirties. He glanced at the glass wall and gave Grey a disapproving look.

"The public doesn't need to know everything about our operations. This boy has had enough humiliation."  
I was shocked by the last part of his sentence. Since when did Citers (especially important ones) have some sort of sympathy?  
"Yes, Sir."  
Grey looked a little shaken by the order, he actually looked afraid of this man.  
"Sean Mcloughlin. Age Eighteen, height is six feet and three inches, weight is one hundred and fourteen pounds exactly, marked as a rebel at age eight." He paused as his cold blue gaze traveled across me, "Everything sound correct Sean?"

I blinked and shifted against the wall.  
"I guess...it's not like I know everything about m-myself."  
My voice was so raspy that it scared me a little when I first spoke. The man looked a little irritated.  
"How long was your torture this time?"  
I blinked. Why did he care?  
"Several..hours I th-think...maybe four or so."  
He crossed his arms and turned to Grey, who looked pissed at me.  
"Four hours Grey? It's supposed to be shorter, the extent is three. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Grey swallowed as sweat beads formed on his forehead.  
"I-I lost track of time. I was training Jake and Brett."  
"You did such a great job by breaking Brett's face."  
Grey suddenly looked pissed but definitely couldn't argue with this man.  
"I apologize General. It won't happen again without your approval."

Grey was forced to leave, along with Jake and Brett. Which left me alone with General douchebag. He didn't speak for a while. He was studying me, as I awkwardly leaned against the wall. It was getting more and more difficult to stay standing. He could see that I was having troubles, he was probably just waiting for me to fall, enjoy it like the sick fuck that he is. My legs started burning and shaking more and more, but I held my gaze with his. He stared at me emotionless, it was an odd thing. I could read them all by now, but him...it was like a brick wall was between us. I swallowed as he shifted. Eerie silence stood between us, it was like he was waiting for me to start speaking.  
"Sean...What're your thoughts on us?"  
I froze as he raised his eyebrows. Seriously? Or was he just messing with me?  
"Well?" He said.  
"I think you're all sadistic demons who believe that there is a difference between you and I. We're human...well maybe I am. But you don't deserve the right to be called that anymore. You're all monsters. Every single one of you out there is."  
He almost looked satisfied with my answer. I felt sick with the face he made, this is exactly what he'd wanted me to say. He wanted me to feel this way.  
"Thanks for your input, we'll be taking you to the containment center in an hour....oh...and you can finally sit. I'm leaving the room."  
When he closed the door, I slowly collapsed to the floor. The containment place sounded like hell...well what doesn't sound like hell anymore?

Grey came back within the hour with zip ties. He zip tied my wrists together and tried getting me to my feet. I could barely stand. He took the ragged shirt I had been wearing the day before and tore pieces off it, then wrapped my wounds. So I wouldn't get blood everywhere. I was basically dragged, and sort of conscious. My head throbbed with everything I was telling myself to fix. Your back is bleeding, so is your shoulders and side, your brain is probably swollen and your tongue is cut up really bad. I didn't even realize we were outside now. The bag was then put over my head again.


	4. Chapter Four

The car ride was much longer than the one we went on the day before. I hadn't been this nervous for a potential punishment for a while. A couple years maybe. No one spoke on the way, which made it even more uncomfortable. I was barely conscious, which I was noticing more of now than I had earlier. My head felt fuzzy and I felt numb. Maybe I was dying. For once...that could be an alright thing.

"He's not dead. Throw some water on him."  
I awoke with a jolt as pain seared through me. I held my breath as my mouth gaped, the pain was almost unbearable. I was lying on a cold white floor, that wasn't lit up with those damned lights. Bloodstained water was around me, I sighed as water fell into my eyes through my hair.   
"Good, you're awake."  
I turned my head a little to see the face of Grey, and he looked more pissed at me than ever. He had his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.  
"You should've thought before telling the truth to the General. He's breathing down my neck because of you now."  
His gaze traveled to the bloody water that was slowly pooling under me. A towel was tossed at me. Jake soon came into view. He looked less nervous now, instead, he was just as pissed as Grey was. My hands were still zip tied so there was no way I could dry myself off. The water was rolling down my face more now, it actually felt nice, since it was cold.  
"Just leave him. There's no reason for us to stay here." Grey said.  
He shot me one last look and left the room with the slam of a door. I let out a shaky breath and hauled myself slowly across the floor so I could lean against the wall. I swallowed, the taste of blood still embedded in my mouth. I blinked at the low light above me, a fluorescent white light that didn't blind me. This is an older building, probably used for the rebels that existed all those years ago. I sat in silence, the occasional noise the lights made and me shifting was all I heard. I stared at the blood-water on the floor, my head throbbed. I haven't drank anything for days, and they sure as hell won't give me anything. 

I waited for the silence to continue as I scooted towards the water. I very carefully and quietly lied down on my side and bit my lip from the immense pain in my back. This is pathetic. I could hear Grey's words echoing in my head as I laid there, frozen in pain. Hot damn! An eight-year-old Rebel? Wow! You're sure in for a treat Jack-a-boy! I closed my eyes as tears started clouding my vision. Just let me die. I want to die, there's no reason for me to be alive. I don't give my people hope, just anger, and frustration. I brought hell upon my father....I choked on a sob. I could barely cry. My weakness was at the highest point. I'm done for...ten years of torture that will only ever end with my slit throat, wrists, or a bullet in my heart. What's the point?

My mind sparked and flashed. Light specks of color swirled in my vision, I stared at them for a moment, trying to wrap my head around it. Was I...dead? I stopped as I felt pain there, but something was masking it. I wasn't sure what it was. I'm still alive, I think at least. I stared at the flashes of color and stiffened as I awoke. I was still on the floor, the bloody water next to me. I blinked for a moment, I either passed out or fell asleep. I don't even remember. I thought about what'd I'd been pondering before. I broke, and thank god Grey wasn't there. He would never know that I broke down and cried for the first time in years. I let out a relieved breath as my focus went to the discolored water. 

"Come on Sean...you have to stay strong."  
I hoped there weren't any cameras or microphones in the room because I was talking to myself at this point. I realized when I got close enough to the water there was no way of actually getting something to drink without face planting in it. I moved my zip tied hands for a moment to no avail. Definitely not gonna happen. I'm stupid. I'm starting to see why Grey has always said that, I've never thought these dumb acts through. I sighed, then the door swung open. I expected Grey, but it was the General. I didn't even remember his name. He looked a little startled by me, I would be too. I'm probably in the most awkward position.

"Need water?"  
I didn't answer so he tossed a battered water bottle to me. I stared at it rolling across the floor. He held a pocket knife and cut the zip ties. I let out a breath as I moved my arms slowly. They were sore as I stretched. I reached for the water bottle, pain searing through my side. I grabbed a hold of it quickly and winced. I sat up and scooted against the far wall, but still faced the General.  
"So tell me this...Do you know why we took you here?"  
I unscrewed the cap on the water bottle and tilted my head back as I took several gulps of the water. I breathed for a few moments and wiped the water from my mouth.   
"I got my ties off-"  
"No. You told Grey you would stop your rebellious behavior. And yet you're still doing it."  
I blinked as I took another drink of the water, then let out a breath.  
"You really think I'll just stop? I've got two years, I'm going to make sure you give me hell."  
It sounded more hostile than I imagined, maybe because of how he was looking at me. Again, couldn't really read him. He looked upset but also sort of inspired? Which didn't make sense to this situation.

"If you weren't a Slum, you'd make a pretty good Citer."  
I frowned at that comment.   
"Don't ever say that again."  
He smiled a little and I was surprised. He was amused, damn. I'd take this guy as my Punisher any day rather than dealing with Grey. The General stared at me again. His yellow-green gaze piercing. I didn't hide from his eyes or try to look away, I did nothing. I just sat there, unblinking. He blinked and glanced at the door. He lost. He's weaker than Grey. Silence stood and I drank the rest of the water bottle.  
"You'll be kept here for two more days. Then return to your town. I'll bring you water tomorrow and that's it. No food for prisoners."  
I held the empty water bottle in my hand and inhaled.  
"Thanks for the update."  
He turned and opened the door, then left. 

I sat alone for a long time. There was no way of knowing what time it was. No clocks or windows. I started drifting to sleep but kept myself awake. My mind was exhausted and for once my wounds weren't throbbing too painfully or stinging. I rested my head against the wall as my eyes kept trying to close. No. No sleeping. What if Grey comes in? He'll beat you for sure. I stared at the white room for a few more minutes, trying and trying to not fall asleep. But, I was too exhausted. 

I awoke to the room darkened. I blinked for a few moments, checking if it was real or not. Pain throbbed through me as sleep wore off. I drew in a shaky breath as I waited for the pain to pass. Once it ceased, I heard footsteps coming towards the door. I shifted as the door opened, that white artificial light poured into the room. My eyes tried adjusting as the sudden light struck me. I saw a silhouette.   
"Sean."  
I narrowed my gaze as Grey came into focus. I didn't respond as he closed the door and looked at me. His gaze struck me like the light had, he wasn't happy.   
"The general stopped by and chatted with you."  
He paused and lit a damn cigarette.  
"Knowing how you are, you made some smart-ass comment that may possibly put my life or job on the line."  
He crouched down to my eye level and blew a puff of dark smoke in my face. I held my gaze, even though my lungs and throat burned. He raised a brow.  
"So? What did you talk about?"  
"Nothing...He said I would be here for two days and left." I paused as Grey narrowed his gaze, "Your name wasn't mentioned."  
Grey shifted and looked at the half-open door.   
"I'll believe you, for now anyways. But if you have one more out of line action, I'll kill you. I'm sick of your face and your personality."  
I swallowed as he stood and then tossed the cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his shoe.   
"Understand...Jack-a-boy?"  
"Yes, Grey. I fully understand."

I waited. Waited for hours. Just staring at that damned cigarette crushed on the floor. I wanted water but I couldn't do anything about it. The General wouldn't be back for a long time. I don't even know how much time has passed. It felt like years though. The pain I'd been feeling was more tolerable now than it had been. The pain was numbing, at least until I moved again. Honestly, I'd lost all feeling a few hours ago. I just hadn't realized until now. It made my comfort level a bit higher than it had been. But my brain wasn't allowing me to just forget about it, so a migraine began. 

I jumped when the door opened without warning. It was the general, with a water bottle in his hand. He didn't say a word or show any sign of giving me the container in his hand. He just went to the other side of the small room and leaned against the wall. He let out a breath.  
"It's been almost twenty-four hours since I came here last."  
Really? It felt like such a short amount of time. I did sleep, but not for that long. Unless I'm so out of it I have no sense of time anymore.  
"I came here an extra forty-five minutes. So we could sit, and chat a little."  
I exhaled as he sat on the floor. It was still dark, but it didn't seem to phase him at all. The silence hung between us.  
"Tell me about your father."  
I raised my gaze to meet his as he looked at me expectantly.

"You don't have files on him?"  
"You're the only one we have files on."  
My chest tightened at that. I'm not sure why it might've been fear.   
"He was born with a leg deformation. He's had to use a crutch since he started walking...." I paused as I ran out of breath, "He's older, I was born when he was in his late forties."  
He looked at me as if he was analyzing if I was lying or not.   
"Your mother?"  
My heart caught in my throat. She was a touchy subject, she died during my birth. I didn't even know what she looked like.  
"I...I don't know...I never met her."  
He glanced at the door.  
"That's a shame. She didn't get to witness the damned mess you've become."  
My heart skipped a beat. What in the hell is this? He acted like he was actually sympathetic then shoots me in the heart. I don't know why, but that struck me. Worse than anything Grey has ever said. I stared at him, my mouth gaping a little. He suddenly rolled the water bottle to me. It hit my bare foot, I didn't even reach to grab it. This man was sinister, not in physical torture but in a mental and emotional sense. He knew what would make me hurt the most. I can't read him because he's been reading me this entire time. 

"So. Any other topics we should talk about?"  
He picked up the crushed cigarette and fiddled with it for a few moments.  
"How much of a douchebag you are could be a start."  
He chuckled and shoved the cigarette in his pocket. He smirked a little and went forward and rubbed my hair. The pain hit me but I didn't wince. He shoved my head a little and I struck the wall, which awakened the injury in the back of my skull. He backed away and smiled.  
"Drink the water. You're gonna need to be hydrated if you're gonna heal."  
I inhaled a ragged breath as he picked up the water bottle and held it out to me. I closed one eye, the pain in my head becoming worse. I hesitated apparently too long so he untwisted the cap and pushed it to my lips. I raised my arm, way faster than I should have and felt pain course through me. I gagged on my breath as I clutched the plastic bottle in my hand. The plastic popped and crackled as I squeezed it. Water boiled over the top and landed on the floor and me. I held my breath as the dripping water sliced through the silence. It sounded like blood. I swallowed as I started shaking. No. Stop thinking about it. Just drink.

It took all my mental effort to calm down, I held the water up and drank several thirsty gulps. The General backed away, he was close to breaking me. Right then, over a bottle of damn water. He stood in silence as I drank the rest of the water. My head throbbed as his gaze sharpened. What does he want? What else could he say? There's nothing else he could offend me with, I don't care about my scars, my tattoo, hair, nothing. My father wasn't as sensitive of a topic as my mother was. But it would sometimes work as something to break me with. 

"I'm curious. Why keep fighting?"   
I bit my lip a little.  
"There's nothing else I can do. Why not do the only thing I'm good at?"  
The general shifted. He looked a little pleased by that. But why? Why was he so satisfied with my answers that don't even matter?  
"Why does it matter anyways? I'm going to be dead in two years."  
"Well. We've got to study you a little. To find out why such a young Slum started rebelling so early in his pathetic little life. This hasn't ever happened before. Might as well study as much as we can."

It was like he didn't know how humans worked. In history, when did we ever back down? Never, we continued fighting. Why suddenly change now? It doesn't make sense.   
"So I'm a lab rat?"  
The general shrugged.  
"Yeah, you could think of it that way. We're just jabbing needles in you for IVs and blood, instead of chemicals and barely developed cures."  
"Isn't that a bright side," I said sarcastically.  
He laughed a little, which made my face heat. Why laugh? There's nothing comical happening here. It annoys me to just know that he finds humor in my suffering, maybe Grey is a better Punisher. He isn't smart enough or clever enough to do what this sadistic asshole does.

"You'll be returning to your town in a few hours, hopefully, next time I see you....You'll be dead."  
I stared at him as he disappeared through the door. I exhaled and shifted, gritting my teeth to the pain. The bright side is that I'll see my father again if he wants to see me that is. I feel guilty for just getting up and leaving him like that, I occasionally dropped food by but it was still kinda shitty of me to ditch him. But, it's for the best. I can't risk anymore danger to come to him, or the constant reminder of why both of our lives aren't worth a single thing. 

I waited alone for a while. I half wondered if they decided to just leave me here to starve to death. Say it was accidental or something. I jumped and groaned as the lights suddenly went off, leaving me in complete darkness. I froze, the sound of powering off generators echoing from somewhere in the building. What in the hell? I strained my hearing, listening for anything. The lock on my door released and I swallowed. I heard footsteps, then a light shone on my face. I blinked and tried to look away from the light. 

"Sean right?"   
I froze. I didn't recognize this voice, it sounded...young. I stared past the light and saw a white and black mask with eyes cut out. What-  
"Answer me. Right now."  
"Y-yes. I'm Sean."  
"Okay good."  
I saw a flash of something white appear and then felt a sharp pain in my neck. Damn it.   
"Just stay calm and still, you'll wake in a few hours. I apologize in advance."


	5. Chapter Five

I kept thinking of my father. His face when I got the tattoo. The disbelief and anger, I still don't know who the anger was directed to, me or the Citers. I just assumed after all these years that it was towards me. It was a rule, never interfere during a check...And I broke it. The one damn rule that if you broke, you were good as dead. Which I was now honestly. During my trip down memory lane, I'd forgotten my situation. I was given some drug and was now unconscious. With some stranger, who may just kill me to break the rules, like a normal Citer. Then it struck me. What if it's not a Citer...? But...what kind of Slum would try to rescue me....or enter the city. None of them. It has to be a Citer then.

I opened my eyes to a white fabric in my vision. I raised my head slightly to see a carpeted floor and dust swirling in the air. I raised a brow and moved slightly, to feel all my pain. I exhaled and heard a door creak. I looked towards the sound and saw a guy in a hoodie. He blinked at me.   
"You're awake.....How are you feeling..?"  
He seemed really unsure about talking to me. Why? Where was the anger? Something about him....Wait...It was that kid. The one that looked sympathetic the other day. I'll be damned.   
"I brought you in some shorts to change into. I thought maybe you'd...you'd like to bathe, clean your wounds."  
I stared at him as he pointed to some bigger gray shorts on the foot of the bed.  
"If you need any help, just let me know."

He left the room, the door left open just a crack. I sat in silence for a moment. Am I dreaming? Am...Am I dead? I slowly sat up, trying to not bend my back too much. I wasn't sure whether to trust him or not. Nothing threatening about him, he was smaller than me. Maybe a few years younger even, either hazel or green eyes. He was sorta pale, which led me to believe that he barely went outside. His hair was a dark, maybe brown or black. 

I took off my ragged pants and grabbed the shorts, with the very little strength I had. I'm surprised I could even sit up. I waited for a few minutes, wondering if he would suddenly walk in. I wasn't sure if I could speak. Maybe my voice was gone.   
"You done?" He called.  
"Y....Yeah."  
He walked in and I watched him. His movements were unsure but coordinated like he was pretending to know exactly what he was doing. He might even be trying to convince himself something, he was so readable. Fear and uncertainty were highlighted in his gaze but he was somehow managing in hiding it a little. He had a strong will, which isn't what I'd generally see in a normal Citer. 

He walked next to me and I just looked at him. His gaze told me he saw me as a wounded animal. Maybe he'd even put me out of my misery. Instead, he reached towards me. His hand twitching a little. I glanced at his outstretched hand, I raised my least painful hand and grabbed his hand. He grabbed a hold of my other wrist and pulled me up. I bit my lip as I closed my eyes, a wave up pain washing over me.  
"Sorry...I don't have any pain meds."  
I gritted my teeth as he let me lean against him, he raised my left arm over his shoulder so we could actually move. I didn't weigh much, but I was still somehow making him almost fall a few times until we got to another smaller room. The floor was hard and a covered in white squares that had simple patterns on them. 

There was a bathtub in the back of the room. It was very nice looking, and not covered in rust like the ones in my town. The boy lets me sit on a stool while he turned a knob and water spilled into the tub. He held his hand underneath it, probably checking the temperature. As I watched him grab towels and washcloths from cupboards attached to the walls, the more uncomfortable I felt. Why was he being like this? Is this even real? Once the tub was filled a little more than halfway he looked at me.

"Okay. While I do this you need to promise to not try to hurt me, I'm trying to help."  
"I'm not a damn animal."  
He looked a little startled.  
"I won't harm you." I clarified.  
He blinked and then pulled me to my feet again. He held me up as I stepped into the water, I'd never been in a hot bath before so it was alien to me. The water lapped my ankles as I stood there, while he made sure I didn't slip. I sat and winced. Once I was sitting, he looked at my blood-stained body started turning the water red. He swallowed and dipped a washcloth and inhaled.  
"I'm going to be as careful as possible. Tell me if I need to stop, I can do this later once I get some pain pills."  
"I'm not as weak as you think...I can handle it."  
I knew I was kind of being a jerk to him. I was in defense mode, no one has ever really been nice to me. None of this can be real, a Citer cleaning my wounds. What kind of bs is that? I almost writhed as he pressed the cloth against the stab wound on my side. I swallowed and bit my lip, tasting blood.  
"Shit sorry! You okay?"  
"I...I-I'm fine...Keep going.."  
I heard him sigh and then rub the wound. It felt terrible. I needed a distraction.  
"W..What's your name kid..?"  
"Mark...I should've probably said that earlier, sorry."  
"It's fine...so...What's th-this all about?"  
I heard him hold his breath. Then dip the cloth in the water and start cleaning my shoulders.  
"No human deserves to be treated this way..."  
My heart skipped a beat. Did he just call me...human? 

We sat in silence, except for the occasional water sloshing or my groaning. The water was a deep red now, so he drained it. Chunks of blood were left in the white tub. I tried to not look at them. He rinsed them down the drain and filled the tub back up. He'd left the stab wound next to my spine alone, he'd said that he would do it after I'd been given some pain pills. Which meant I'd have to probably stay in here. He started my face and chest. He avoided my gaze the entire time, which made me feel like he was afraid of me. He probably was, but I couldn't do anything in my condition. But that irrational fear would still bother him.

"W..What's it like living in your village?"  
I exhaled as he started wrapping towels around me. So he could clean my hair.   
"It's none of your business," I said.  
Mark swallowed nervously and started wetting down my hair. He looked a little disgusted, I'm not surprised. Didn't wash my hair often at all.   
"Okay, It's perfectly fine if you don't trust me. You grew up not trusting anyone."  
"How do you know that...?" I asked, looking at him.  
"Just a guess."  
That was a guarded answer. He was lying. I wouldn't get into that right now, he can lie to me all he wants. I can't stop him. 

He'd shampooed my hair and rinsed it so the soap wouldn't come into contact with my wounds. He made sure it was all rinsed out before removing the towels. He hesitated as he grabbed the washcloth again.   
"Um...Would you like to clean the rest of yourself? I can wait outside..."  
His face reddened a bit.  
"Yeah...I'll tell you once I'm done...Also, bring me some actual clothes?"  
He gave a nod and set the cloth on the side of the tub. He went through the door with one last quick glance at me. 

I cleaned the rest of me, which took more effort and time than I'd imagined. My wounds haven't ever really been this bad so it was even more of a challenge. I'd opened both stab wounds, which left blood trailing down my skin and into the reddening water.   
"I'm done," I said.  
Mark walked in a few moments later with folded clothes and fresh towels.   
"Do you think you'll need help changing..?"  
"No. I'm fine."  
He gave a nod and helped me from the tub. He saw the blood running down me and started pressing damp cloths to the wounds. He mumbled to himself as he stopped for a moment to grab a box from under the counter. He opened it and pulled out rolls of bandages. He unrolled one and started wrapping it around my torso and shoulders. He exhaled after he finished and looked at me.   
"Are you feeling okay? Dizzy or lightheaded?"  
"I'm fine."  
He didn't look satisfied with my answer but I didn't care. He's the one who pulled me from the damn containment cell, he could've just left me. I would have been alright like I always am.   
Once I'd gotten dressed, Mark helped me back into the original room I woke up in.  
"I'll change your bandages after I go into town to get some painkillers for you. Go ahead and sleep if you want, you're probably a little mentally and physically worn out."  
I stared at him, he opened the door halfway and let out a breath.  
"You're safe, you can let your guard down a bit."  
He looked uncomfortable under my gaze, which sent him out of the room. His fear of me would have to disappear before I trusted him if I stick around long enough that is. 

I lied down on my stomach, my thoughts churning. What's this guy's deal? Not only is he a Citer, but he seemed pretty unsure of what he was doing. I kinda felt guilty, if he was caught...He'd probably be killed. But who's fault would that be? His. He should know the consequences of this dumbass idea. But....He is helping me. So I can't judge him so harshly or make assumptions, I'll make him explain later on, though. 

He was gone for a while. Maybe an hour? I wasn't sure, considering I didn't really move or anything. I heard a distant door shut and then something drop on the floor. Wow. Not very quiet. His footsteps came closer and closer as the door swung open. He was holding a little bottle in his right hand. He let out a breath. His cheeks were a little red like it was cold outside.  
"Sorry I took so long, people are all over the place looking for you."  
I just blinked and sat up. I stopped halfway up and let out a breath, trying not to wince. He looked at me with concern and irritation.   
"You don't have to pretend you're okay. Because you're not. Stop making a fool of yourself and go ahead and show me that you're in pain."  
I looked at him, shocked. I didn't think he was capable of being so stern, I've only known him for a few hours but still...his body language and eyes didn't show an ounce of strength. It was hidden, clearly never really used. I sat up and gritted my teeth a little. I saw a flash of triumph in his gaze.

He gave me some of the pills and I started numbing. My mind felt a little opaque. It was the weirdest feeling, your pain disappearing with little capsules. Mark had moved me to the floor, where I sat on a towel, while he started cleaning the stab wound on my back. My breath got caught in my throat as he dug into it. The pain's back. He cursed under his breath and apologized before continuing.   
"Crap. It's infected."  
My chest hurt at that. Infection is the worst. I should know, one almost killed me from a cut on my forearm. That was a turning point to deep clean my wounds the best I could.  
"Don't worry, I've got stuff for it."  
I just went with his answer. Not because I trusted him, but my mind was still fuzzy.  
"This is going to hurt, I'm going to try and drain the pus out. Try to stay as calm as possible, moving will make it worse."

I prepared myself, inhaling and exhaling. Then he started. It took all power I had to not yell or writhe. It felt like the blade was slowly being dug into the wound again. It made me choke on my breath, which sent me into a coughing fit.   
"Sean....crap..I'm sorry. I'm done alright? I'll bandage you up again and let you sleep."  
Every breath felt like my flesh was tearing. I can't blame the kid for this. He's helping me, without my consent of course. But I was still maybe grateful for his help. It'd never occurred to me before...but what if this is something set up by Grey or the general? Hell. It could be, I might be in a lab right now being watched and tested. Studied as the general said it. Mark lifted my face and shone a flashlight in my eyes.  
"You need some sleep...The fever will go down within a few hours of rest."  
He stood up and walked to the bed. He picked up the kit and pulled out the bandages and gauze. He walked back over and went around to my back. I felt him tape gauze to my skin, the cold from it soothing my heated back. He taped down every cut on me. Then started wrapping me up. There were so many wounds that I was practically wrapped head-to-toe with bandages. 

Mark gave me some loose soft pants and an oversized shirt. He helped me put them on. My eyes started closing and opening. I was so close to passing out. I saw Mark bring me water and put a blanket over me. Before my vision went dark.


	6. Chapter Six

I exhaled as my eyes adjusted to the light of the room. I blinked a few times, not remembering yesterday's events. Once my brain caught up, so did all my pain. I sighed and groaned a little when I moved my arm. My gaze was out of focus for a few moments then sharpened, there was a glass of water on the nightstand. Tiny water droplets were on the sides, I watched one roll down the side and disappear around the bottom of the cup. I swallowed, then reached my arm out and grabbed the cup. I ignored the throbbing and put the cup to my lips. It was so weird. I usually drank from my cupped hands or a thrashed, dirty water bottle. I drank it all in a few moments, enjoying the cold of it. It sort of dulled my pain for a few seconds.

I stared at the bandages on my hands. I wasn't sure what the reason was, but it made my stomach feel off. I spent a while just staring at nothing. I didn't really know what I was waiting for, to actually wake up, for Mark to walk in, for Grey to. I wasn't even sure if I wanted this to be real or not, another person caring for me...put me into a weird daze. I jumped as I heard the door knob turn. I looked at the door as it opened a little. I saw Mark's face peek through, his eyes widened.  
"Shit. How long have you been awake?"  
"I don't know...an hour or so maybe?"  
He sighed and came to my bedside. He took that pill bottle from his pocket and shook a few pills out.   
"Any major pain?"  
"My back.....almost everywhere."  
He exhaled and looked at the empty water cup. He looked a little happy by its emptiness. Mark helped me sit up, while I groaned from the movement. There's the pain. I gritted my teeth, and squeezed Mark's shoulder to steady myself. He stood there, silent as the pain passed. 

"I'll let you take the meds, but you need to eat with them or you'll get sick...What do you like to eat anyways?"  
I looked at him. No one's ever asked the question to me. I haven't eaten anything for a few days so anything edible would be great.  
"I don't really have a favorite food, because of eating those rations and whatever I could hunt.....Make whatever you want."  
He looked a little surprised but it disappeared in a couple seconds. He grabbed the kit, that he'd apparently put under the bed and unlatched it. He grabbed more gauze and bandages, setting them on the comforter as I watched intently. He was calculating every move he made, must've noticed that I'd seen his fear and uncertainty yesterday. He was trying to hide it, and he was honestly doing very well.   
"Just a friendly reminder: Don't kick or punch me, I'm trying to help."  
"I said I wouldn't harm you."  
"Uh huh...Just putting that out there."  
I frowned as he started helping taking my shirt off. Once it was off, he held it out in front of himself. Light blood had seeped through the bandages in the spots of the deeper wounds. He sighed and tossed it by the door and then made me turn to face the wall. He sat on the bed behind me, pulling the tape free from my skin. I tensed as he started lifting the bandage on my shoulder. I swallowed as the air hit it. I writhed slightly, pulling away from him. Mark grabbed a hold of my shoulder, trying to make me stop. I calmed down after a few moments, the pain dulling down to a low throbbing. I heard him move some things around and then gauze pressing against my back. I inhaled sharply and bit my lip a little. Mark muttered something, I couldn't really understand it because the pain was making me mentally unstable. I exhaled as he taped one back up.   
"Onto the next one." He sighed.

It took him about fifteen minutes to remove and redress my wounds. All a painful experience that almost made me pass out twice.   
"I'm going to go get you some food, I'll be back in a few minutes. Try not to move around too much while I'm gone."  
I just stared at him. Gave a nod and he left the room, shutting the door behind him. Something about him makes my stomach churn. His actions and the no-confidence talking really confused me. He knew what he needed to do, yet he was so uncertain about it. Which led me to believe that this just a set up more and more. He was either a really good actor, or he was nervous of this assignment of his. Frankly, I didn't give a shit how I treat him then. People always try to break me, my turn.

"I hope you like rice."  
He walked in, carrying a white bowl and a spoon. Steam was rising above the brim, my stomach clawed at me. I was already sitting up, she he clumped the blankets a little and put the bowl on them. I looked into the bowl, white rice and vegetables missed together. Smelled sweet and savory at the same time. He put the spoon in and raised a brow.  
"Need some hel-"  
"Nope."  
He looked surprised as I grabbed the spoon and scooped a small bite of rice. I took a bite, my stomach lurched a little. I haven't eaten for a few days. And I was feeling that. I was so hungry but my stomach wasn't ready for a ton of food. I took several ravenous bites and sighed in defeat. An aching in my stomach began.  
"Are you done..?"  
"Yeah...I can't eat anymore."  
He looked a little concerned and reached for the bowl.  
"You're sure?"  
I met his gaze.   
"I'm sure."  
He gave a nod and grabbed the bowl from in front of me and carried it to the door. He hesitated for a moment but left. I stared after him for a moments and sighed. More pain. Just what I need. 

Mark was gone for a couple minutes and came back with a pill bottle. He shook a few out and sighed at the empty water cup.  
"I'll be back."  
He picked up the cup and left once again. The amount of times he went in and out of this room was kind of excessive in my opinion. Sure, he fed me and brought me water, but my brain is mostly trying to find reasons to not like him. I've seen the bare minimum of his personality, yet so far he doesn't seem like a bad kid. But again, still haven't seen much of his personality. He came back in, sighing yet again. He sighed more than talked. I needed to talk with him. Probe him for anything, flaws or his real intentions. 

The door squeaked when he walked back in, water spilling over the brim of the glass clutched in his hand. He sighed and groaned at the same time. My gaze followed him as he came to my side and pulled the capsules from his pocket. He handed me the glass slowly, making sure I had a good grip on it. Then gave me the medication. I tossed them in my mouth and took several gulps of the water. I ignored my pain, not very well because my vision blurred a little as I looked at Mark. He took the glass of water from me and set it on the nightstand. His face was screaming awkward. He didn't know whether he should say something, or just leave. 

"Do you think...we could talk?" It took almost all my effort to sound so nice and collective.   
Mark looked startled by my question.   
"Uh...sure."  
He stood there, more awkward than ever. There weren't any chairs or another bed so he could sit on the floor or stand there like a freak. Of course, he chose stand.   
"How old are you?"  
Mark blinked.  
"I'm sixteen...almost seventeen."  
Wow. A lot older than I'd thought.   
"Full name?"  
His leg shifted as if he was trying to come up with something.   
"Mark Edward Fischbach."  
He looked at me like he wanted me to tell him the same thing.   
"Sean Mcloughlin."  
"Middle name?"  
I shook my head. He moved his shoulder a little and let out a breath.   
"You think I'm a threat...don't you?"

I looked at him, trying to meet his eyes. Could he read me? I thought he was weak minded. But maybe...  
"What's the first thing you think of when you hear the name Sullivan?" I asked. That was Grey's last name. Heard a guard mutter it one time.  
"Uh...Grey."  
I stared at him. I was suddenly scared. Which made me feel weak as hell.   
"Why..?"  
"He's one of the highest ranked people in our Government. Who doesn't know the douchebag."   
I let out a relieved sigh. He wasn't lying. No hint of it in his eyes or body language, first truths he's said confidently.  
"What do you know about General Thomson?" I asked.  
Mark shifted uncomfortably like he was afraid someone was watching him.  
"He's..Like our president. Even though Presidents haven't existed for a long time. He controls our world. Not very well either."  
He blinked for a moment and I swore I saw tears forming for a second. He blinked them away instantly and ran a hand through his dark hair.  
"You're still young...Where are your parents?"   
"Died a couple years back...Been on my own since."  
His lip quivered for a second and he smiled a little. Hadn't see him smile yet, and this seemed like a bad time for me to see it. He's an odd one...That's for sure.


	7. Chapter Seven

Mark left me alone for most of the day. Helping me to the bathroom once or twice not really included. It was almost like he wasn't really sure what to do with himself. Like he hadn't thought this whole ordeal out. If he was still weighing his options; we're more alike than I'd thought. I could see hurt and pain in him. Something messed him up. Enough to do the most illegal thing ever. What shit is rolling around in that head of his? I felt so useless. Unable to push him against the wall, a knife to his throat demanding answers. Instead, I sit here like I'm his bitch.

I sat up, two puffy white pillows propping me up. I could breathe so much easier upright rather than drown in the excess blood still running down my throat occasionally. I coughed every once in awhile too. Which made me inhale sharply from the pain and curse under my breath. Mark came in with food, water, and the question how are you doing? And I'd reply the same answer. I'm fine. He'd look a little doubtful, but never attempted arguing. Finally He came in, after I don't know how long, I stopped him.  
"Mark."  
He tensed for a second then came back inside more.  
"Need something?"  
Information. "How did you break me out?"  
He blinked for a moment.   
"I...I've been studying the containment building. My father worked closely with the general, so I knew most things. Like where the security cameras were, and how to break the doors to release the locks without a key card." He paused, like he was waiting for me to keep up with him. He wasn't lying either. Not a hint of it in his eyes. "I knew they would take you to containment after you taking that rope off your wrists. That's when I made my move."

Silence stood between us. A long pause that left me feeling lost and unsure of what to say.  
"I can tell you're trying to read me. Figuring out if I'm lying or not."  
I blinked and shifted slightly, pain flaring in my back.   
"If you don't mind me asking...How'd you get your hands on the medication? You're too young be getting it normally...unless Citers don't give a shit about drug addictions."  
"I get it from an old friend of mine."  
"Oh, so a drug dealer?"  
Mark shrugged.   
"You can call him that, he just has a stash. His mom is a doctor."  
I stared at him. There was so much I wanted-no. Needed to know about him. I was so powerless here, like a little kid with the flu. I was almost dead yesterday. But this weird guy saved me. I need to figure him out.

"Want to give me more of an explanation maybe? I still don't get your logic or motive for doing this."  
Mark picked up the half filled glass of water like he needed something in his hands for this conversation.   
"I don't really have one."  
I stared at him. Wow. He must be suicidal.  
"Well that doesn't make any goddamn sense!" I was getting irritated now. He'd given me the bare minimum of information. I never dug for explanations ever. Never in my entire pitiful life. His startlement was expected. He hesitated before speaking again.  
"I'm sorry...I just wanted...to do something no one would dare do. I apologize for dragging you unwillingly into this."  
I stared blankly at him. His gaze flickered with truth. No hint of lying. What if he isn't working for the General?

"Time to redress your wounds again."  
"Been looking forward to it."  
I saw a glimpse of a smile beginning to form on his face, but it disappeared again quickly to a blank expression. He'd walked in with a wet washcloth and small package of something. I uncovered myself and turned around, facing the bed frame rather than the foot of the bed.  
"What's the package?"  
He tossed the bandages and gauze next to me, they made me flinch slightly.   
"It's a heat pack. Thought it'd help with the bruising on your lower back."  
I hadn't even realized I had bruising. Not that I was surprised. He removed my shirt again and tossed it across the room by the door. I exhaled and tried to get myself lost in thought before he started removing them. Didn't help much though. The pain was hot and made my stomach convulse at the temptation of throwing up. I had paralysis-like effects too while he changed them out. Hurt like a bitch. And it would for a few weeks until the healing began.

His hands were so cold. It made me want to jerk away or a shiver would run down my spine. He must have noticed, because he cracked the heat pack and held it for few moments before continuing. He let out an amused breath as I actually relaxed my tensed muscles. First time I'd actually relaxed. I ignored the feeling of embarrassment. Why was I embarrassed? It makes perfect sense that I'm so distrusting of him.   
"Is this the worst it's been?" He asked, reapplying the patch on my lower back.   
"No. The blade being twisted next to my spine really screwed me over."  
He let out a low breath.  
"I can imagine."  
He'd said it like he knew exactly what I was feeling. There's no way he had been in pain like me before, zero chance for an upper class like himself.

"So Sean, are you always going to be so irritated with me..?"  
"Ask again when you aren't cleaning my wounds so slowly."  
I felt him back off a little, then continue.  
"I'll take that as a no."  
I couldn't help but smile at that. It felt weird to smile, not menacingly or after a smart remark or a punishment, this was actual happiness. It didn't last long because he ripped another bandage off, I bit at my torn up lip. I shifted and exhaled slowly. He quickly redressed it and put his hand on my shoulder.  
"I can stop and do it later if you want...I'm in no hurry."  
"No," I said through gritted teeth, "Keep going...I'm fine."  
I heard and sensed his hesitation. But he started up again, defeated this time.

Once he was finished, we were both in a cold sweat. Blood was slowly rolling down my back, and pain throbbed basically everywhere. He threw away the old bandages and came back with a cup of water. I looked at the floor, focusing on the individual strands of carpet. Mark's feet came into view. I felt a hand under my chin, then my face was lifted. I stared at him, his brown eyes edged with concern. I could barely focus, which made me not able to pull away from his grasp.  
"Sean..?"  
I let out a ragged breath and he squatted down so he could be eye level with me. That's when I fell forward and rested my head against the crook of his neck. I felt him freeze.   
"Thank you," I whispered.


	8. Chapter Eight

Mine and Mark's interaction that day made him a little more relaxed. He seemed to be not as fearful of me like he'd been. Still kept his distance unless redressing my wounds, or giving me something to eat or drink though. I didn't talk to him much after that either, we both were in silence when around one another. I wasn't sure whether or not it was the right choice or not. I still needed to know what his game was because if I didn't find out, I think I'll lose my mind more than I already have.

I was bored more than not. I couldn't walk around, with that fear of opening the wound on my back. So I sat, staring at the wall across from me. I kept remembering Grey and his beatings, that general who was sadistic, yet he could hide it, and Mark. What I'd gathered is that his parents died a few years ago, leaving him alone. He may have gotten a job or stole things to get money for this little apartment. As far as I knew, this was the only room. He might have given me his bedroom, which honestly, I was sort of grateful for. Even if he worked for Grey or general douchebag, he's considerate. I at least knew the connection between Thomson and Mark. His parents used to work for him, which made my theories on Mark working with them even more likely. 

I'd heard a sudden cracking noise outside, it echoed and continued for a few seconds before seizing. Mark suddenly burst through the door, making sure the curtains were covering the window. He then turned off the lights and stood there, staring at the window.  
"Uh..."  
Mark looked at me and held his pointer finger against his lips. He pulled it away, his breathing quick but quiet. I don't know how long we were in silence. There wasn't commotion outside anymore, which made Mark let out a quiet sigh and turn on the light.   
"Care to explain?" I asked.  
He itched his head for a second.  
"The city is a dangerous place currently, people are killing each other looking for you." He said simply.  
I blinked as he glanced back at the window.  
"I'm wanted?"   
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's more like a bounty, the poor people in town are-"  
"Poor?" I cut in.  
"Yeah...there are poor people."  
"Then they're Slums, aren't they? The poor are taken to the island-"  
"You don't know why slums are there do you?" Mark asked.  
"Because we're too low class. Not enough money."  
He shook his head.   
"That's what the government wants you all to think."  
I felt so lost. What did he mean?   
"Then why..? Why are we on that damned island?"  
Mark inhaled.  
"Because..."  
He trailed off.   
"I'll tell you when I think you're ready..."  
Are you kidding me? He finally gives me a chance to know something, and he shuts it down? This guy...damn this guy. 

I ignored him the rest of the day. Just gave him a blank look as an answer to every question he asked. Won't answer my questions? Won't answer his either. He seemed a little amused at first, but now he was irritated.  
"Come on Sean, stop being so childish."  
I looked at him and smirked a little. This was kind of like messing with Grey, and I loved doing that. He frowned and rubbed his temples.  
"Out of all the slums, of course, the rebel is just some infuriating child."  
"bitch," I said.  
He smiled a bit.   
"Ha. I know you are but what am I?"  
I frowned, even though I slightly wanted to smile.

 

"Need anything before I go shower?"  
I shook my head. It's been almost another week...at least I think so. My back was doing much better, so Mark was helping me walk a bit, of course, it was painful, but it was better than lying around all the time. He'd disinfected it last night, with rubbing alcohol that made me throw up from pain. He'd apologized so many times that the word sorry meant almost nothing to me anymore. Mark had been so busy with me that he didn't shower for a few days, so he's been all paranoid that something will happen while he does go shower. Told him I'll be okay and he somehow agreed and got in the goddamn shower.

After I had heard the water go on, I started getting out of bed. Time to find out if he is who he says he is. I stumbled a little, which sent a wave of pain in my back. I gritted my teeth and got to the door. I opened it, making sure the hinges didn't squeak. I'd seen the hall and the bathroom door before. I haven't gone past that point. The water was louder in the hall, which made it much easier to get to the kitchenette. The apartment was bigger than I'd expected. There were a couch and recliner, a very poorly made coffee table and some blankets piled on the floor. He must sleep on the sofa. The tiny makeshift kitchen had a counter that only had enough room for maybe a few plates. There was a knife block next to the fridge. They were all dull, but that didn't matter for what I had planned. I walked through the little living room and waited in the hall, next to the bathroom door. 

The water shut off, so I waited and listened to him drying himself off and then putting on clothes. I held my breath as he opened the door. I lunged forward, grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling his arm behind his back. He let out a startled sound, and I pushed him against the wall, the dull knife to his throat. His brown eyes were wide with terror.   
"Sean-"  
I pushed the knife closer; it was almost piercing his skin. Even as an incapacitated and wounded person, I had a good hold of Mark. He didn't even struggle, he just looked alarmed and scared to death.   
"Who put you up to this?" I demanded.  
He blinked, looking even more alarmed.  
"Are you serious? Are you t-trust issues that bad?"  
I pushed the knife closer; blood trickled down. He inhaled sharply.  
"Sean. I'm not working for Grey or Thomson."  
"How can I believe that? What proof do you have?"  
The blood was welling a lot more now, and I started letting back a bit.   
"They...They made my life like this.."  
I stared at him; his desperate gaze screamed he wasn't lying. My heart skipped a beat as tears filled his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks as he tried not to sob so he wouldn't move and accidentally kill himself.   
"Sean...I just..w..want to help you."  
I froze for a second, then lowered the knife from his throat. He inhaled and held his hand against his neck. I stood there awkwardly as I dropped the bloodied knife on the floor. He took a moment to recover, while he went back into the bathroom, and pushed gauze to the wound. 

He came out and looked at me. Disappointment, anger, betrayal, and so many other emotions sparked in his gaze and face.   
"New rule: No more trying to kill me."  
"I wasn't trying to kill you."  
He looked disgusted and shocked.  
"ANYWAYS. I'm not lying to you. Just for once trust someone."  
"Okay...I'm sorry."  
That word. I'd never actually said it, not meaningful at least. I could have just killed an innocent person; I would have been just like Grey, or any Citer.   
"Sean...It's okay."  
He put his hand on my shoulder, giving me a smile. I tensed at his touch, and he pulled me close, letting my chin rest on his shoulder, with gauze tickling my neck. My vision grew blurry from tears trying to spill over my eyelids.  
"Why..?....Why did you save me..?"  
He didn't release me.  
"Because you needed saving."


	9. Chapter Nine

The days following the incident were sort of tense. Sure, Mark didn't hate me or wasn't all that irritated with my behavior. He knew why I was like this, he understood...somehow. But he now had a wound on his neck, really prone to infection. He changed the bandages and redressed it after my wounds were done. I offered to help, but he'd turned me down. Saying that my hands were shaky and it wouldn't be much help to him. He'd let me walk around, with a lot of supervision. He wasn't necessarily afraid of me, just that I might hurt myself or break something that could alert the freaks outside.

He'd kept his quiet about how the government had made his life this way. I couldn't think of a specific reason they'd hurt him. His parents worked for them sure, but could they have betrayed them enough to have their son live in a tiny apartment by himself? It just didn't make sense in my head. I believed him because he'd convinced me when I'd had a knife to his throat. But sometimes beliefs aren't always true in the end.

His words because you needed saving kept running over and over again in my head. He hadn't talked more about it since he'd said it. How do you know when someone needs saving? Sure, I was completely and horribly wounded. But that wasn't me screaming save me, I'd dealt with worse before and I didn't have a savior then, so why now? How long has Mark been even planning this? Could be weeks..months...even years. I've seen plenty of people in my town that needed to be saved, either being beaten by Citers, attacked by wild dogs, starving, or dying of dehydration. If I ever tried to help them, I'd get yelled at or punished for it afterward. They acted as if the rebellious behavior was contagious.

Any other Citer would have been happy to see me bleed out. His face, when he'd seen me up on display in the city, was something I'd never seen before. It was filled with sympathy and grief. He might've seen every display of my torture, I didn't look at faces until about a year ago. I couldn't stand the mocked expressions and happiness towards my horrific wounds. It was nonhuman.

“Sean?”   
Mark's voice pulled me from my deep thoughts, he had a coffee mug in his hand.  
“What's that?” I asked, monotone.  
“Chai Tea...thought maybe you'd like it.”  
He handed me the mug, it was warm in my hands. It was comforting...an odd feeling I hadn't felt since I was young. I took a sip, sweet spices and warm cream was what I tasted. It was weird getting used to new foods and drinks I would have never imagined trying or having access to.   
“I'm sorry.”  
Mark sort of flinched as I spoke.  
“For what?”  
I shifted and looked into his brown gaze.  
“For being so mistrusting. I held a knife to your throat because I was so eager to know information..I could have killed you.”  
He sighed.  
“You don't have to keep apologizing. I already forgave you.”  
I gaped my mouth.  
“Y-you already forgave me?”  
He gave a nod and grabbed the first aid kit from under the bed.   
“Do you think I'm going to be stubborn and have something against you. You've been through hell and back. I get that you're going to be very cautious and question events and words I've said.”

I felt odd as he spoke. It was calm, almost as if I was happy. That emotion rarely showed, last time it had, I'd shot two deer in a day for my father and me.   
“Do...Do you fear me?”  
Mark paused for a moment as he was opening the kit. He turned to me.  
“Honestly, I used to. But now, I don't. I understand much better now than I thought I did.”  
What did that mean? He had some theory about the way I'd act and approach problems?   
“What's your bone to pick with Grey?”  
He seemed a little overwhelmed by the few questions I'd asked. His shoulders slumped before he exhaled and looked at me.   
“I believe I mentioned that the government here had ruined my life, well at least made it like this. Grey is the main person who made me hate everything about my world.”  
An awkward pause sparked my interest.  
“What did he do to you?”  
Something flashed in his eyes. He looked uncomfortable to tell me. For once in my life, I gave in.  
“You don't have to tell me. You can if you are ready to, but I won't force you. I know what Grey can do.”  
Mark's eyes looked glazed over as if he was trying not to cry. It made nervousness and sympathy churn in my stomach.   
“I'll tell you eventually. It's not important right now.”  
I gave a nod as he got ready to redress my wounds. I was sort of looking forward to the cleaning and reapplying bandages. Gave me some punishment for being such an asshole to this guy.

Mark and I ate dinner together at his little coffee table in the living room. He’d made hash browns and rice. It was a weird combination but I didn't argue or get upset over the lack of flavor at this meal.   
“What am I worth to the government right now?” I asked between mouthfuls of rice.   
Mark chewed some hash browns and swallowed before answering.   
“They're offering the best and most expensive houses for free. Lifetime no pay, free car, basically any criminal record cleared.”  
“So they would trade my life for their own well being.”  
Mark nodded and pushed the rice around with his plastic fork.   
“Why not turn me in? You would be better off.”  
He set the fork down and sighed.  
“Because I'm not that cold hearted, maybe even still human.”  
I froze as his gaze flashed with something. I'd said that, to the general. Did he hear it…?   
“I was listening in to your conversations with Thomson. He's sick. I'd forgotten that over time.”  
It was like he'd read my mind. I've never seen him like this yet, so serious and voice hardened with anger and irritation.  
“Did you really lose your mother?”  
My chest tightened at that.   
“She died when I was born. There weren't any pictures of her. Never knew what she looked like.”  
“I'm sorry.”  
I sighed and started eating again, trying to avoid these touchy subjects. Mark still seemed like he wanted to talk, but he didn't continue any questions.

After dinner, I sat at the counter on one of the two crude bar stools that stood underneath the overhang of the wooden countertop. The legs were a little uneven but it didn't really bother me. Mark was doing dishes and getting food together for breakfast. He'd handed me a cup of water, along with some pain medication. I took them with a few gulps of water, he glanced at me as I did so.   
“Your back is doing a lot better. You should be completely healed within a month. More scars, but no wounds.”  
I blinked as he put the plates in a cupboard.   
“What's your plan?” I asked, resting my elbows on the table.  
He looked back at me.  
“What do you mean?”  
“We can't stay here forever. They'll find me, or we'll just waste away.” I said.  
Mark sighed.  
“I don't know yet.”  
I almost wanted to laugh, but this was serious. I wasn't sure what to even do, Mark seemed to have found a flaw in his little rescue mission.  
“We could leave during winter. No one usually goes outside. The search would be going on for a few months. People most likely will get tired or give up the search. You might even be considered dead by then.”  
“Do you think they'll just give up? I'm worth something to them.”  
Mark gave me a skeptical look.  
“He told you were a lab rat, right?”  
“Yeah, don't understand what they're looking for though. There's no hint from them of what they'll find at the end of their search either.”  
He leaned against the counter and sighed.  
“Don't think about it too much. Try to forget what they did to you, it's hard. But don't think about giving up and how it's inevitable that you die.”  
“It is inevitable though. Everyone dies. My deadline is just a bit shorter.”  
He looked at the floor then at me.  
“Your deadline won't be short. You'll live a life like you deserve.”  
“Wha-”  
“Because no matter what happens, I'll defend you until the day I die.”  
My shoulders lowered as his determined gaze focused on me. It felt odd. Someone actually caring for me. Why it had to come from some random kid in the city, I don't know.

“Do you wish the tattoo wasn't there?” Mark asked.  
He was removing my shirt so he could redress all the wounds.   
“I forget it's there sometimes.”  
He started taking off the gauze from the less sensitive wounds and quickly put a fresh dressing on. He started on the one in the center of my back, pulling it back.  
“You didn't answer my question.”  
I tensed as the bandage came off, I let out a breath.  
“I don't know. If I wasn't a rebel, I guess my life would be a bit boring.”  
Mark laughed a little.  
“Yeah, but you wouldn't bear scars almost everywhere.”  
“Heh. I guess, but I think I rather this than cower in fear my entire life.”  
Mark let out a breath.   
“Yeah…”  
It sounded a little questionable. But I didn't say anything because what I'd probably get is a guarded answer that didn't count as an actual explanation or a brush off of the question. I'll stick with his silence for now. There was something there, but he wasn't ready to talk to me about it.

After night had fallen, Mark and I sat on the bed. He'd re-wrapped his neck and was about to leave and go to bed. He packed up the gauze and wrapping, then glanced at me.  
“Hey..”   
He looked at me, pausing his movement off my bed.  
“Do you think..We can talk for a bit?”  
Startlement and shock was on his face.  
“I mean...sure. What did you want to talk about?”  
He settled back down with his legs criss-crossed.   
“I want to know more about you.”  
Mark itched his head for a second and let out a breath.  
“Well. If I wasn't low on money, I would definitely get drawing supplies. Paint or sketch things, like extinct birds or reptiles.”  
He smiled a bit.  
“Art, huh? I like the art of bow hunting.”  
He looked down and half smiled like I was funny or insane, both probably.  
“What kind of things did you hunt?” He asked.  
“Wild dogs, really skinny deer, and an occasional pig.”  
I was given a nod, then he looked towards the window.   
“Ever wish you were born in the city?”   
I blinked and followed his gaze.  
“Honestly, I'd rather be tortured every day than be a Citer.”  
He sighed.  
“Kind of figured. Imagine how stuck up you'd be.”  
He grinned and laughed. Something about the way he said that made my heart skip a beat.   
“Yeah. I would have probably been a whiny little snob who thinks I'm better than everyone else.”  
After I said that, he looked a little hurt. Like I'd directed that to him.  
“Mark...I didn't mean to offend you...not all Citers are like that, well at least you aren't.”  
“Yeah, I know. I sometimes wish I hadn't been born here. I feel like maybe I could've made your life a little less miserable.”  
My eyes widened a bit. I felt my chest tighten, but not with grief, but something else. Happiness? No..it was different. It made me feel something I've never felt before.  
“Mark.”  
He looked at me, his brown gaze seeming a glow a little in a bright amber.  
“Can I promise you something?”  
He raised a brow.  
“uh..sure.”  
“No matter what, I can't ever repay you for this. Hell, I owe you a lot after the knife incident. But as long as I live, I will try my hardest to help you. I won't try to leave again or threaten you. I'll stay even if it's a life or death situation because me being here is like that for you all the time.”  
I froze as tears filled his gaze. I was so confused, did I say something wrong? He inhaled shakily and spoke.  
“You don't have to promise me anything Sean, I know you're a good person. Broken, but good. I trust that you would have stayed even if you'd hated me. Because you are human.”


	10. Chapter Ten

The smaller wounds on my body were healing nicely. Some just had scar-like scabs protecting the open wound still underneath. I only had to wear bandages on my right shoulder and my back. Which made it less uncomfortable to have clothes on and sleep. Mark got a new round of pain reliever, something that wasn't illegal for him to buy as well, which was less of a dose and didn't make my head feel fuzzy. I started gaining weight, almost at one hundred and twenty-five pounds, mostly muscle. Mark had almost killed me after he saw me trying to attempt sit ups and push-ups. And then demanded why I was doing vigorous exercise when I was still wounded. I told him I was skin and bones, I needed some muscle if I was to functionally survive. He didn't argue but told me to wait a bit longer. I can't change his mind on things like this, so might as well stay still until he thinks I'll be okay.

I was more eager to get up and walk around, which made Mark a little nervous. I spent most of my time out of the wretched room, sitting at the counter or lying around on the couch. If I was in my town, I would be dying of infection or had offed myself by now. Instead, I have a hovering sixteen-year-old caretaker and an actual chance of being in a good spot in my life.

The news over a radio device was what we listened to. Stories of murders, and at the end, they repeated the offer of my turning in. Since Mark didn't have a tv, he could get the audio through a makeshift walkie-talkie with wires and electronics coming from it.   
"How did you know how to make that?" I asked.  
"I was into engineering as a kid, ever since I was on my own I learned ways of manipulating electronic devices."  
I gave a nod as he turned the knob and voice came through.  
"There is still no sign of the Rebel Slum that escaped a month and a half ago. General Thomson will start conducting home searches within the next week."  
Mark's eyes widened.  
"They will start on the poorer side of town and be worked to the top. Be aware citizens; the punishment for keeping a slum hidden is death."  
I stared at Mark, he looked like he was about to throw up.

"I have to hide you." He said.  
"How exactly?"   
He looked around and then looked at me.  
"You aren't claustrophobic are you?"  
"Uh...no?"  
"Was there a question mark after that sentence?"  
I shrugged. He stood and walked to the bedroom, I followed. He went to the bed as I leaned against the door frame.  
"What are you doing?"  
He lifted the mattress from the frame, which exposed an empty space underneath.   
"I used to hide here from police."  
I stared at him. That made him seem like a criminal, which made me feel a little nervous. But in reality, even if he was, still better than Grey.  
"And you want me to hide there?"  
He nodded. I sighed, then glanced at the floor.  
"I'll just keep a good lookout, if you hear a knock on the door, hide under there. Keep quiet."  
I gave him a nod.  
"Why exactly are you hiding from police?"  
Mark put the mattress back and looked at me.  
"Because Thomson and I don't get along."  
"What happened?"  
He shifted and fixed the pillows that had fallen to the floor when he'd pulled off the mattress.   
"It'll come in time."  
Irritation flooded me.  
"What the hell is your deal? It's ridiculous to keep me in the dark! 'It'll come in time' my ass! You aren't going to tell me anything!"  
Mark looked a little startled.  
"I am, Sean. Just give me some time, I don't think you're ready yet."  
"Ready for what?"  
"Ready for the truth! I can't tell you yet, you're blinded by anger and distrust!"   
He let out a breath and rubbed his forehead.  
"I didn't mean to snap..I just don't feel you're ready to know everything."  
My shoulders dropped a bit as I felt guilty for being irritated. He's doing what's best.

I stood there, defeated. I felt bad for my ignorance and anger towards him. He fixed the bed and avoided my gaze. A sickly silence was between us and it made me want to run or apologize. But I couldn't do either. After he fixed the bed, he started for the door. I felt nauseated. I wanted to stop him and say sorry.  
"Mark."  
He jumped a little like he'd forgotten I was there. He didn't look at me though, just stared out the door.   
"I'm sorry. I'll stop pressing. I just....I want to understand something for once in my life and I-"  
He turned and looked at me, tears in his eyes. I froze.  
"Don't be sorry. I get it. I need to calm down."  
I stared at him as he exhaled slowly and left the room. I looked at the bed for a second and felt nervousness crawl inside me. I hope those dicks don't come within the next few days, I want to feel normal...maybe Mark does too.

"Sean wake up."  
I opened my eyes to Mark dangerously close to my face. I jumped, almost falling off the bed in the process. I groaned as my wounds throbbed.   
"Shit. Are you okay?"  
I winced as he looked at me, worry on his face.   
"Yeah...Jesus...Do you know personal space?"  
Mark shrugged. "Sometimes."  
I pushed the blanket away from me and sat up like a normal person and stretched my shoulder slowly. Mark kind of blankly stared at me as I situated myself.  
"What's wrong? You don't usually wake me up." I commented, focusing on my other shoulder.  
"I was thinking of a few ways...to deal with this."  
I lowered my arm and turned to look at him, raising a brow.  
"This?" I echoed.  
Mark rubbed the back of his neck for a second.  
"This...Our-..er...Your situation."  
I straightened. Did he find a solution? In like two days?  
"We could change your look."  
I stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. It hurt but I ignored the pain as Mark stared at me blankly.  
"S-sounds simple enough. I have scars everywhere, it'd be hell covering those up, and that's not even the most difficult part."  
Mark looked semi-defeated, but it didn't stop his sudden look of enthusiasm.  
"Remember the friend I mentioned earlier?"  
"The drug dealer?" I asked.  
He gave me an irritated look and sighed.  
"Sure, the drug dealer. Anyways; he knows the basics to make up. He could cover scars, change your eye color, hair length, even your skin tone. We could make you a whole new person."  
I pondered this for a moment. It seemed a little too risky, has he even told his friend who I am?  
"I don't know Mark, it's risky."  
He groaned a bit but didn't push further.  
"Yeah. I kind of figured it's a pretty stupid idea. I thought maybe you'd like to see yourself differently. I know how looks can drive a person mad."  
I blinked as something flashed in his eyes. Is he implying this isn't how he actually looks...? I shook the feeling away as he suddenly sat on the bed. He'd turned around so quickly and sat that I barely had time to react.

He pushed his face in his hands and let out a breath. We sat in silence for a few minutes, until my own heartbeat made me feel like I should speak.   
"It wasn't a stupid idea." Wow. Nice awkward comment.  
Mark didn't move. You're a dumbass. Where'd you learn to comfort people? My hands itched and I suddenly without control, raised my arm slowly and rested my hand on his shoulder. He jumped and tensed for a moment and relaxed. His shoulder warm, and slightly trembling between the stillness. The awkward tension grew between us as he shifted slightly, which made my hand instinctively tighten my grip a little.   
"...What happened to you...?" I asked.  
Mark sighed.  
"Something...horrible." He said quietly.  
My chest tightened.  
"Want to talk about it?"  
He looked at me, tears beginning to form in his eyes.   
"I-"

Several loud knocks sounded from the living room. His eyes grew wide.   
"Get under the bed."  
He stood, lifting the mattress as I climbed underneath. He shoved the pill bottles to me and lowered the bed. He was ready for this to happen. I sat alone in the dark, fear edging into me. Could they have come at a worse time? Someone needs to kill these bastards. I heard the door slam open, and voices carry. I recognized the first sickly voice.   
"Hello there Mark," Grey said maliciously.  
"Grey," Mark said, serious.  
Then footsteps and the sound of things being thrown was echoing through the house. They came into the bedroom and started knocking things over, someone walked right next to the bed and I held my breath. I tried listening but my heartbeat was in my ears.  
"What the hell happened to your neck?"   
I tensed as I heard Grey's disgusting voice.  
"He probably tried killing himself and couldn't go through with it."   
I'd never heard that voice before. Sounded younger, at least compared to Grey's. I noticed that Mark didn't respond.  
"I'm honestly amazed with all of your restrictions that you got yourself a pretty nice place. Better than those losers down the block. You've got it good."  
Restrictions? Why would he have restrictions..?  
I heard a few more things being thrown around, then it ceased.  
"Well. It's your lucky day Mark, you're clean. You can go back to your shitty life."   
I didn't have a clue of what was happening. Until I heard a grunt and someone gets punched...several times. I listened in horror. Because I knew who was receiving them.   
"Oh and Mark; your mom and dad say hi."  
I froze. What the hell...Is that mocking that his parents are dead...or are they still alive? I heard a few small conversations and then footsteps leave, and then the door slam. I waited a few minutes, then pushed against the mattress, trying to get it off. After a few failed attempts, I got it up and crawled out awkwardly. I sat on the floor for a few moments, taking in the damage in the room. Clothes and items were all over the floor, a lamp, pillows, shirts, pants, dressers knocked over. It looked like shit. I slowly stood, then started for the living room. I walked out, leaning against a wall. My back was throbbing. I stared at the mess and saw an arm. I froze. I stumbled a bit but gained my balance and saw Mark. He was lying on his stomach, blood pooling around his mouth and soaking into his shirt collar. I knelt down, trying to figure out what to do. I touched his shoulder then shook him a bit.   
"Mark?"  
He didn't respond. He was breathing, it was a bit raspy though. I stood back up and grabbed a towel from the kitchen and set it on the floor and I tried to get him to sit up, I put his back against the overturned table. He groaned a bit. His nose was bleeding, and his cheek was heavily bruised. Blood was also slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. The side of his face was smeared with blood. I inhaled and pressed the towel to his face, getting the majority of the still wet blood. He flinched a bit and I saw that as a good sign.  
"Mark?" I tried again.  
"Sean..?" He rasped.  
Relief flooded me.  
"Yeah...Yeah, it's Sean."  
I was trying to clean his neck and face of the blood, but I could have sworn I saw a crack of a smile for a second.   
"How bad is it..? Where's the worst pain?" I asked.  
He was silent. Then finally spoke right before I asked again.  
"My ribs...my face..is the worst."  
Ribs? Hell. I stood, then stopped, realizing he might fall sideways. He wasn't really able to hold himself up very well. I grabbed a few throw pillows and propped him up on either side. Then ran to grab the pain meds.

When I came back, his eyes were open. More like halfway but that was better than nothing. I got some water and sat back down, feeling blood seeping through my shirt on my back. Great. Just what I need. He looked at me lazily.   
"Your back's bleeding." He commented.   
"It's fine. I'll deal with it later. I'm going to help you first."  
I opened the pill bottle and shoot out two pills and let him take them since he was conscious enough to do so. After he was done, I cleaned him up the rest of the way.   
"Sean.."  
I raised my head as I got some blood off his neck.   
"Yeah...?"  
"Why didn't you just...run..?"  
I froze, as he blinked at me. I glanced at the ground and felt my stomach churn.   
"Where would I go? Plus; you haven't finished being my caretaker yet."  
He looked at me, and this time, unmistakably..a smile spread across his bruised face.


	11. Chapter Eleven

"You don't have to clean the place up...I can do it once the swelling goes down."  
"Shut up and let me do it."  
I was so close to tying him up. He kept trying to clean up the apartment and I was so close to losing it. He was beaten and popped a vein in his eye, his nose and left eye was swollen. His ribs hurt as well. He needs to chill the fuck out. He was sitting on the couch, pouting. He was mostly all pissed because my back was bleeding, and I continued moving and lifting things up to put them back to where they were originally.   
"You're hurt Sean. More than I am right now. Sit down and let me finish it up."  
I didn't even look at him, I pushed a table back on its legs.  
"I don't care. I'm fine Mark. You need to rest, you've been caring for me this entire time and not taking care of yourself. Let me be the one who's constantly there and ready for your every need. You were beaten for know reason."  
"So were you."  
My stomach flip flopped. He just won there. That was a winning argument. Crap. I stiffened and turned to look at his bruised face.  
"Nevermind that. Citers don't usually turn against each other, so are you going to explain what you did?"  
He blinked as nervousness started being written all over his face.  
"I'll shower. Get the blood off my face, then I'll talk okay?"  
I nodded as he tried getting up. He started falling over so I grabbed under his armpit and pulled him to his feet. He winced a bit and I felt like it was my fault. I didn't move away from him or drop his arm though. He smiled a bit.  
"You have some really fast reflexes, damn."  
He pulled away from me, steadied himself and started his way to the bathroom.   
"I'll be out in twenty minutes."  
I nodded and looked at a few book strewn about. That's enough time to finish up the cleaning.

When I heard the water turn on, my brain was fighting in turmoil with thoughts. Why would Grey beat Mark if I wasn't in here? They're the reason my life is like this. I picked up the overturned night stand in the bedroom and groaned a bit with my own pain. He's so calm. He's so cautious ."I'm honestly amazed with all of your restrictions that you got yourself a pretty nice place. Better than those losers down the block. You've got it good." I looked at the pill bottles that'd fallen out when I'd come from under the bed. I'm touch with dealers and having restrictions? "Sure, the drug dealer. Anyways; he knows the basics to makeup. He could cover scars, change your eye color, hair length, even your skin tone. We could make you a whole new person." Offer me a new look? This doesn't add up. He wouldn't need to hide. Citers don't have that problem. I zoned out as words jumbled and echoed in my head. Then the water ceased. I suddenly felt that same feeling when I held that knife to Mark's throat.

It was electric. The energy sparking in my muscles. My fingertips itched to go get that knife. I rubbed my temples. God. I'm so sadistic. He's done nothing wrong. He's not a bad guy. I heard something fall in the bathroom. I immediately walked to the door.  
"God...damn it." Just a murmur.  
"Mark?"  
I heard a bit of scrambling.  
"I'm fine."  
"You fell didn't you?"  
He sighed.  
"Yeah. Twisted my ankle."  
"Need help?"  
Silence. Then rummaging around.  
"Mark, don't move around. I'm coming in."

I opened the door, he was sitting against the tub. A towel covering himself. His clothes were out of his reach.   
"Couldn't grab the clothes?" I asked.  
"I was trying to, but you burst in here so you might as well hand them to me."   
I grabbed his briefs and shorts, tossing them to him. His right ankle was turning purple around the ankle bone bump. He uncomfortably put them on, trying to conceal himself with the towel. That's when it slipped off his shoulder, revealing scars that raced over his shoulders led to his back. They were really noticeable. He realized the towel had slipped so he pulled it up, fear in his eyes.   
"What are the scars from?"  
He stared at the floor.  
"Mark."  
He didn't look at me. He swallowed nervously.  
"It's from...all the abuse I've received."  
"Abuse...? From your parents..?"  
He shook his head. He shifted the towel, put on his shorts and let out a shaky breath.   
"Mark...?"  
He awkwardly started turning around. The scars more in view. Mark turned a bit more and my stomach dropped. I felt like throwing up. Right there, between his shoulder blades in blood red ink, was the word Rebellious.

9 years ago

"Mark. Pay attention."  
"Yes, father."  
I stared at my father's clean cut face. He could've been a model, but being at the head of the government was more his style I guess. He forced me to grow up at a young age. I have the mental agility of a sixteen-year-old. Almost double the age that I am. I've been in heavy classes since I was four, learning to read and write within a few months.   
"You're getting better at analyzing Shakespeare. By the time you're ten you can start training with Grey."  
"Grey is a dick though."  
My father turned to my older brother.   
"Thomson he's our lead in command. His job is to be a dick to everyone."  
My brother, the future leader of the government like dear old dad had slicked back hair and clean shaven face. He was raised to be older than he really was, but somehow became more sadistic than dad himself. I honestly didn't like the way the world was run. But if I said that to my father, he'd lose his mind.

The son of a government official was highly acknowledged and respected. I could do whatever I wanted. No one messed with me either, since there was always a guard nearby. I didn't get a lot of alone time, especially in public. I'd studied about the island across the bridge. I'm allowed to be at a library whenever I want. So I spend most of my time with huge books that have a book hidden with information on Slums inside. I'd been studying them for a while now, learning all there is to know. Very strong willed. Ready to fight. Show no sign of previous behavior, bred out of them possibly. Rebellious behavior has gone from seventy-five percent to one percent in the last two hundred years. I always wanted to meet a Slum. They don't come across the bridge or we go to them. It happens maybe once a week. There were rumors of an uprising. But my father and brother didn't seem like they thought it was real. If there was a rebellion beginning, it'd probably make life a bit difficult. Even our government wouldn't be prepared for it. Better hope it doesn't happen then.

"Mark! Wake up you bastard!"  
I was thrown off my bed and hit the hardwood floor with a loud thump.   
"What the-"  
I rolled over to see Thomson beaming above me.   
"There was a Rebellious Slum caught yesterday. He's like eight years old!"  
"Really?"   
I sat up immediately, ignoring the throbbing in my side. Interest and curiosity coursing through me.   
"What's dad doing about it?" I asked.  
"He's already been given the tattoo and beaten a bit. He was returned home this morning."  
Beaten? I thought he was eight years old, that seems really harsh.   
"Do you think dad will let the age law stand?"  
"He's sadistic, but he's too much of a coward to kill a kid."  
Thomson smiled as he looked towards the door. I fear for the day he's in charge.

Whenever the Slum was brought in, dad made us go away. Never let us watch or see him at all. Grey calls him Jack. He supposedly had darker colored hair usually. But based off the conditions of the Slum villages, his hair isn't probably that color. For two years we knew the bare minimum. Then, after irritation and anger of being left out, I snuck in. When I got close to the area he was tortured, my stomach churned painfully. It was possible I could be caught. Dad wouldn't be happy. I walked against the wall, my hoodie covering my face. I saw a lit up wall on the side. I walked to it, staring at the morbid scene. His arms were tied up on the wall, blood dripping and dried to his body. A ten year old boy, tied and beaten. This was savage. He was shaking slightly too, and it made my heart beat faster. I looked at the building. I know this one. I ran to the right, trying to get around to the other side. I went down the alleyway and saw the locked doors. Everything's locked with electric codes and locks. And I knew them.

I logged into the door, and went inside. Thank god it's one in the morning. It smelled of a sterile environment, like a doctor's office. There was a mini fridge in the first room, a sign was on it with the words blood bags on it. Why would they need those? I chose to ignore it and saw the door that led to the lit up room. I went up to it, and turned the door knob. When it opened, the boy inside flinched and murmured gibberish to me.  
"Please....G...Grey...please...no more."  
"I'm not Gray."  
He looked at me, his eyes swollen and blood on his face. He looked afraid still. Why?  
"Do you need any help...? I can make you more comfortable.."  
He didn't answer me. He just stared forward, I followed his gaze. Thomas was there, staring at me. He smiled a bit. Oh no.

Hot pain struck my face. I fell to the ground, my breathing ragged.   
"I can't believe you did this, Mark."  
He struck me again, except a kick to the ribs. I gagged on my breath. My mother was watching, just sitting there and enjoying the show of my beating. She didn't say a word. He started pacing, and I heard Thomson shifting every once in awhile.  
"Dad...I didn't mean.."  
"You didn't mean what? You're being so goddamn-"  
He ceased. I trembled on the floor.  
"Thomson, call Gray. We have a new Rebel."  
My father hit me one more time on my head, and I never saw the inside of my home again.

The present

"Your father, I don't remember him," I said, as Mark started putting his shirt on.  
"Lucky you.." He said.  
He was semi trembling, and he looked like he'd just been beaten.  
"Your brother is General Thomson...I would have never guessed...How did you survive out here..?"  
Mark rubbed his eye.  
"It was tough...I was eleven years old. Too many people out to get me, I was assaulted and attacked a lot for a few years, until I learned self defense from my friend the drug dealer. I had a few jobs, embarrassing ones..but they really helped me get enough money to buy this apartment."  
He looked fine. Like this part of his past wasn't the worst.  
"Explains why Gray hit you when he came by."  
He nodded.   
"They don't beat me regularly like you because I'm a Citer."  
"There's some benefit," I commented.  
Mark smiled a little. I see why he waited for so long. This is a lot to take in.  
"Is that all you want me to know..?"  
He looked up at me.  
"Sean....I'm sorry, but some parts will take a little longer to say.."


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEXUAL HARASSMENT/ABUSE WARNING

Knowing these new things about Mark were semi-uncomfortable. Not like the part where we were virtually the same, but that I treated him how the Citers had treated me. Putting a knife to his throat, not trusting him constantly. Hell, being a complete asshole to him when he was being kind. I sort of left him alone for a few days, didn't speak to him at all when I helped change his bandages. Mine was a struggle so he had to help me as well. He didn't speak either, it was a mutual silence. One of understanding and processing. This was a lot to take in, and even more planning now. We're both in deep shit, he might not be killed. Just tortured the rest of his life, which I don't want for him. I don't want any harm to come to him anymore...I want him to have a chance to live a life. 

Fear throbbed in my stomach. Grey stood over me, his malicious grin making me shake uncontrollably. No. I've healed completely. Please don't hurt me.  
“Come on Jack-a-boy, don't you want to play?”  
He held a knife and slashed my wrist open. Blood poured from the wound, but I didn't feel the pain. It pooled into the ground, my stomach lurched. I felt sick. I took a step back, clutching my bleeding arm.   
“Please…” I whispered.  
Grey smirked and grabbed the collar of my shirt.  
“You're already dead Jack, so is your boyfriend.”  
Mark’s lifeless body flashed on the floor, neck slit. My breath got caught in my throat. Mark’s eyes were empty, no kindness or sympathy. Just emptiness...the kind you can't escape from or change. 

I inhaled, the breath raspy. I was in a cold sweat, my body was sore from tossing and turning. My face was hot and tears were rolling down my cheeks. Tear stains were on the pillow as well. I sat up, wiping my tears away and pulling the blankets from my body. It was still dark. I exhaled, my breath still shaking a bit. I don't dream often, and when I do, it's usually so powerful it bothers me for a while in the real world. I waited a few minutes for myself to calm down. It wasn't real...Grey isn't here...Mark’s alive. I let out a really slow breath as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. Once my breathing and heart rate went down, I stood up. The bedroom door was open and faint light was coming from the living room. I walked towards the door and rubbed my left eye. Past the bathroom, I got into the tiny room. Mark was asleep on the couch, his soft breathing semi-soothing. The bruises on his face were turning yellow and blue around the edges. It's been a few days so they're already starting to heal. His blanket was on the floor next to the couch. He was a little curled up like he was cold. When I got closer, I noticed goosebumps on his arms and legs. I picked up the blanket and draped it over him. He stirred a little, his eyes moving a bit under his eyelids. A little twinge of fear swirled in my stomach. His face was flushed, and he was shivering a little. I wasn't cold, and neither was the apartment. Hope he's not getting sick. 

I rested my pointer and middle finger against his forehead lightly. He was warm. I sighed as he let out a breath that made me jump, that would've been awkward if he'd woken up. Even with the blanket on him, he was still shivering. My dream of his unmoving body on the floor flashed in my mind. I swallowed as he shifted. God. I'm gonna regret this. I went to his side and picked him up. His eyes opened and he stared at me and struggled a little.   
“Wha-”  
“Shhh it's okay, go back to sleep..”  
He blinked and then his eyes looked heavy as he closed them again and rested his head on my shoulder. I shifted his weight and walked towards the bedroom. I turned sideways to go through the door. My back ached as I finally got him to my bed and set him down. He shifted a little and pressed his face into the comforter. I moved him more towards the side and got the blanket over him. His breathing was a little shaky as he continued trembling a bit. I sighed as my stomach flipped over with nervousness and embarrassment. I slowly sat down, scooted a little to lie down next to him. I stared at the ceiling, as he rolled a little towards me. 

He inhaled weird, which made him wake up again. He stared at me, his eyes heavy as he blinked.   
“I'm cold..” he whispered.  
I got up and walked back into the living room and grabbed the blanket I’d dropped on my way into the bedroom. I walked back in and put it over him. He shifted a little trying to get comfortable.  
“Sean…”  
I looked at him as he smiled a little.  
“Thank you..”  
He closed his eyes again. My heart thrummed in my chest as I imagined myself holding him close to keep him warm. I exhaled as my stomach felt like it was burning. Why..? Why the hell do I feel like I need to do that? I awkwardly watched him sleep, how quiet and soothing his breathing was. I started dosing off myself, my eyes opened for a few more seconds then closed. Maybe decent sleep would be good for me.

-  
I woke up to sun filtering through the curtains onto my face. I yawned then froze. Mark’s head was on my chest, and so was his right hand. He was still asleep. I let out a low breath, which made me a little scared to wake him. It felt awkward but fine at the same time. He was still warm, which made me nervous. I don't know how to take care of people when they're sick. His dark hair was draped over his eyes, I brought my hand up and touched his hair with my fingertips. I reeled back, what the hell. Why did I do that? God that’s so weird. He made a little breath-like noise and his eyes fluttered open. He blinked as I awkwardly looked into his gaze. His eyes widened, and he pushed himself up above me, alarmed. He glanced around as his cheeks grew red with embarrassment.   
“Uh…..”  
I sat up, pulling myself towards the bed frame. My head hit his and I groaned a bit and rubbed the sore spot. He held his forehead with one eye closed.  
“S..Sorry.” I said.  
He pulled his hand away as he looked at me with more embarrassment.

“How...did I get in here..?” He asked.  
I sat up more as my back ached.  
“Funny story..You were shivering on the couch so I carried you in here, hoping to help you warm up.”  
He blinked for a second as he sat up and scooted away from me.  
“You didn’t have to do that….and why?”  
I didn’t know why honestly. This was beyond my knowledge.  
“I don’t know...I just felt like I should help as much as possible until you’re better is all.”  
He raised a brow as he glanced towards the door. His eyes….were blue. I could’ve sworn they were brown yesterday.   
“Your eyes.”  
Mark looked at me.  
“What about them?”  
“They’re blue...they were brown yesterday.”  
He swallowed. Then sighed.  
“Sorry, hold on a second.”  
He started putting his fingers in his eye, I almost grabbed his wrist but he pulled a blue colored circle from his eye and I stared at it skeptically. He did it to the other eye as well, now they were brown. What kind of sorcery is this?  
“What the hell is that?” I asked.  
“They’re colored contacts. I wear them when I go into town, makes me have a disguise. Must’ve forgotten to take them out last night.”

His eyes widened.  
“What..? You went into town last night?”  
He gaped his mouth a little. Like he didn’t want to answer.  
“Do you go out every night..?”  
A sigh and groan came from him as he rubbed his face.   
“God damn it I knew you’d find out eventually.”  
“Find out what exactly?”

“I have work...kinda.”  
I raised a brow as he shifted uncomfortably.  
“I have to pay for this place, so at night I do errands and participate in illegal activities in town.”  
“What kind of illegal activities?”  
He sighed, he looked embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.  
“A lot of people want to see the Rebellious Citer. So I let people take pictures of me and my tattoo, sometimes even let them hit me. Just so I can survive.”  
“Do they touch you..?” I asked.   
The Slum villages were dangerous for younger guys and girls. I knew that, but everyone left me alone since I was a Rebel.  
“Sometimes….depends on who and when.”

My shoulders dropped as tears filled his gaze. He’s been through so much, I wish I could’ve changed it. I would if I could in a heartbeat. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand as the tears started falling down his cheeks. I stared for a second, my reaction delayed. I leaned forward and pulled him towards me. He resisted against me like he didn’t want any comfort, but he gave in. He pushed his face into my chest and I held him against me. I rested my chin on his head, as he cried into me. His sobs made his weak body tremble a little so I rubbed his back. I felt his hands grip the fabric of my shirt.   
“I...I’m so ashamed…I j-just want to die. I’m worth absolutely nothing...I’m just garbage. I can be tossed away at any time and no one would care.”  
I tightened my grip on him.  
“Don’t you say that...Mark, You are worth so much. If those assholes can’t see it, let them burn in hell. You’re amazing...and I would care. I would kill as many as I could if you were gone, you made me see the value of life again.”  
He pulled his face from my shirt and looked up at me. Our eyes met and I saw the pain in his, he saw mine too. My instincts made me lean forward. I noticed he was moving too, we got so close. I could feel his breath on my upper lip. I closed my eyes as our lips connected. Something sparked inside me as they did. I pulled away and Mark looked up at me. I don’t know what I just did….But I want to do it again. Mark looks away from me before I can though.   
“I’m going to go shower,” he paused, “Thank you...again.”


End file.
